Harder To Breathe
by KlutzY
Summary: A songfic to Maroon 5's "Harder To Breathe"... My first Mediator fic! Please READ AND REVIEW!


**Harder To Breathe**

I walked down the hall with a bounce in my step. Everything was fine, perfectly happy after my little meeting with Jesse in the rectory before homeroom. What can I say? Being in love makes you perky.

Or at least I was perky until _he showed up._

"Hello, Suze," a familiar voice called from behind me. I turned around to see none other than Paul Slater with a smirk on his face. He walked up beside me and put his arms around my shoulder. Of course, I should have expected this. I should have known that his one month suspension ended today. But I forgot. I am sorry to say I completely forgot.

"Get you hand off of me," I said, with as much confidence as I could muster. He obliged, moving his hand to my waist instead, which wasn't much of an improvement. 

He was back. The guy who haunted my dreams was back. The guy who had exorcised my boyfriend and left me for dead, pretty much sexally harassed me, and always managed to scare me to death. Yeah, that guy.

"What do you want?" I asked. I shifted uncomfortably, his hand still on my hip.

"Do you remember that little deal we made a while back?

_How dare you say that my behavior is unacceptable  
so condescending unnecessarily critical_

I remembered the deal we had made: the shifter lessons. I cringed.

I frowned at the thought of punching him square in the face. I knew all too well that he would most definitely fight back.

_  
I have the tendency of getting very physical  
so watch your step cause if I do you'll need a miracle_

"Yes," I said, sadly. 

"Yeah, well, deal's up.  I'll meet you at your house after school." The smirk remained on his face I really didn't want to meet him at my house. I didn't want to meet him _anywhere_ come to think of it.

_You drain me dry and make me wonder why I'm even here  
This Double Vision I was seeing is finally clear  
You want to stay but you know very well I want you gone  
Not fit to fuckin' tread the ground I'm walking on_

I did not want to spend an hour alone in my room with Paul Slater, alone.

He sauntered his way in front of me, and to my relief his hand left my hip, but I ended up in a much more uncomfortable position. His face was inches away and I could feel his breath against my cheeks. I looked up at him confidently, trying to hide my discomfort. "Remember," he said, "a deal's a deal."

_When it gets cold outside and you got nobody to love  
You'll understand what I mean when I say  
There's no way we're gonna give up  
And like a little girl cries in the face of a monster that lives in her dreams  
Is there anyone out there cause it's getting harder and harder to breathe  
Is there anyone out there cause it's getting harder and harder to breathe_

"I remember perfectly well," I replied. "I hope you do, too." I said, referring to Jesse being off limits to him.

"Of course. I won't insult your long-dead cowboy..." I made a fist behind my back cringed. Sure, I'd called Jesse a cowboy not too long ago, only a few months. But hearing it from someone else was different.

"I do believe that was an insult." I said matter-of-factly.

"Oh really?" His face was inching closer and closer by the minute. I tried to back away, but he grabbed my wrist firmly, as he had done once before, and pulled me back towards him.

_What you are doing is screwing things up inside my head  
You should know better you never listened to a word I said  
Clutching your pillow and writhing in a naked sweat  
Hoping somebody someday will do you like I did_

"Let go of me!" I shrieked, surprisingly loud. Everyone in the hall froze to look at us curiousy, and he let go. I sighed with relief and walked away, assuring myself that nothing would happen during the "lesson", That I would have full control.

_Does it kill  
Does it burn  
Is it painful to learn  
That it's me that has all the control_

_Does it thrill  
Does it sting  
When you feel what I bring  
And you wish that you had me to hold_


End file.
